The Throne of Narnia
by Ultra-Geek
Summary: In which resides the record of a nearly successful pirate take over of Cair Paravel, Peter’s first undercover rescue mission, and Edmund’s brief stint as the High King of Narnia.


**Title:** The Throne of Narnia  
**Author:** Ultra-Geek  
**Rating:** T for slight violence and mild angsting  
**Summary:** In which resides the record of a nearly successful pirate take over of Cair Paravel, Peter's first undercover rescue mission, and Edmund's brief stint as the High King of Narnia.  
**Disclaimer:** Yeah, I own nothing.  
**AN – **I honestly have no idea where this came from. But whatever. I find it kind of amusing, but maybe that's just me! Let me know. I've been slowly writing it for weeks and weeks now. Basically, I'd do a few sentences here and there when I was taking breaks from my longer fic, King's Bane. But, again, whatever. You aren't here to hear me rant.

Pevensie Ages are as followed:  
Peter – 15  
Susan – 14  
Edmund – 12  
Lucy – 10

* * *

_Where do stories begin, really?_

"It's mine," Edmund growled.

_There are so many places for them to start._

"No, it isn't!" Peter insisted. "I'm the High King, and I always will be. It is mine."

And this one is no exception to that rule. But we must begin somewhere.

"I'll fight you for it! Don't think that I won't," Edmund warned.

This particular tale, however, starts in the morning.

"Bring it on, _little_ brother," Peter said in answer. "Bring. It. On."

The tale begins, as many do, with the last piece of cake, and a war over whom has ownership of it.

The two Kings were in the throne room. They were the only ones there. Had they stopped in their bickering to consider it, they may've found this odd. For their sisters were absent, along with their Chamberlain Sir Giles. The girls were on their way home from a voyage to the Lone Islands. But more importantly, in the kitchen at that very moment, Giles himself was happily polishing off the final slice of cake.

However – Kings though they may've been – that did not elevate Edmund and Peter over certain things that brothers are wont to do. Say, brawling.

And it was as they were doing this, that a visitor to the court, having waited for long enough, found them. And here, here is where our story truly begins.

"Renounce your claim on it!" Peter said, as he managed to catch Edmund in a headlock.

"_Death first_!"

"Your Majesties?" A voice asked from the door. Peter stiffened and Edmund quit trying to struggle away from his brother's hold. Both turned – Peter not letting go of Edmund's head yet – so that they faced Chieftain Beka, the cheetahs' leader. "Mayhaps I should come back later…?" She said, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Peter looked down at Edmund who shrugged then back up at Beka. "Oh,"

He abruptly dropped his hold on his younger brother and straightened into a much more dignified stance. Edmund, however, had not been expecting the headlock to be let go of so abruptly. As a result, he dropped to the floor with a most un-kingly yelp. He quickly shot back to his feet, and straightened his tunic with a jerk while his face turned a very odd shade of maroon.

The cheetah was clearly fighting a smile. "I bring word from your sisters."

"Yes?"

"A message from a Gull, they will return home in three days time."

"Good, good," Edmund said. "You can go,"

Beka inclined her head and turned to leave, tail curling behind her. "Oh, and Chieftain?" Peter called after her.

"Yes, High King Peter?"

"We'd, uh, we'd really appreciate it if you didn't, you know, talk about this,"

The cheetah grinned toothily. "Yes your majesty."

As soon as the door shut, Edmund looked over at Peter. "Revenge will be mine," he said. "And your crown is crooked."

"I await it eagerly, and _your_ crown is beneath your throne." Peter answered, pulling off his golden headdress and straightening it out. "But let's keep it out of the throne room next time, agreed?"

Edmund nodded as he reached under his throne to grab his own coronet. "Agreed." It was at that point that they both bolted from the throne room and down towards the kitchen.

Ah, to have seen their looks upon arriving…

The rest of the day was that like any other. It was filled with the comings and goings of court life. Bills were signed into law as the Kings lamented the loss of the last piece of cake. But it was that night that set this day apart from the rest. Peter, at the last moment, had been called out to settle a dispute a day's ride from the Cair. "Try not to loose control of the castle while I'm gone, Ed," he'd said before leaving.

Ironically, six hours after he left, the pirate ships came.

Soundlessly, the scourges scaled the walls and took out the guards.

Within ten minutes, the intruder's had heard no alarm being sounded. But one of the charms of Narnian life was that alarms weren't always vocal ones. So that was the surprise they earned upon rounding the corner and finding a fully armed battalion – with no armor, however, just nightclothes – charging them, being led by one fully ticked off King. After all, Edmund didn't like being woken so rudely and abruptly in the night.

But another group of the pirates had circled around back. Within minutes, the Narnians were overrun, subdued, and three were dead. After all, the majority of the fighters had accompanied Peter.

One of the pirates, obviously the leader, came up to Edmund and rested the tip of his sword at the base of his neck. The King's hands were tied behind his back and he glowered up at the attacker.

"Where is High King Peter?" the Pirate hissed. Edmund gagged slightly at his putrid breath. "We come for the High King Peter!"

"Your Majesty – "one of the Narnians began to say, but was shushed by the others and silenced by the pirates.

The Pirate Lord's eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him. "…Are you the High King Peter? Speak!"

The event that followed was one often disputed by Narnians. Some were of the opinion that it was a remarkably brave act. An act, they said, that should be remembered as one of loyalty, audacity, and boldness. It took real guts to do what he did. The others, however, thought differently. Most of them figured that it was possibly the stupidest feat they'd ever heard of in the history of forever. A stupid, stupid, _stupid_ thing to do. Peter, actually, was a strong supporter of the latter grouping. But Edmund has always been the one doing things that could really go either way of the line – incredibly brave, or incredibly daft. He found it amazing, at times, how often those two things came to coincide. Especially when he was doing something either very courageous or exceedingly dim-witted.

"Y-yes," Edmund gasped out. He cleared his throat and glared with all he had, before speaking much more confidently. _Think Magnificent, _he told himself. _I'm the High King. I own the place. I'm Peter._ "Yes. I'm High King Peter."

* * *

Three hours after that, the Kestrel arrived to Peter's guard. In fact, they had only just gotten to their destination.

"Pirates…taken over the Cair…barely made it out myself. They sent me for help. Six wounded, possibly mortally, and at least three are dead."

Peter felt a tightening in his chest. Three dead? Maybe even more than that by now. But then an icy fear seemed to twist and turn around in the pit of his stomach. "How fairs my brother?" he said quietly.

The rest of the guard moved in slightly closer; Oreius pawed the ground impatiently. The kestrel gasped slightly, still trying to regain control of her breathing. "Taken by the pirates, your Majesty."

"King Edmund would be a powerful bargaining chip." Oreius said. "They would most likely keep him alive."

Peter felt the ice in his stomach melting as it was replaced by hot anger swirling and burning through his veins. These invaders, these pirates, had taken over his home. They had killed his people, his friends. They were threatening his little brother – they could be hurting Edmund right now. "We're going back. Now."

The dispute that had seemed so important a moment go was reduced to nothing. It had melted until it was nothing but petty change. Oreius nodded and began issuing orders

"Permission to speak?" asked one of the younger centaurs.

"What is your name?"

"Corporeal Janus of the Grasswave herd, your Majesty."

"Be heard, Janus."

"If we storm the castle, then we run the risk of all of our people on the inside. Including King Edmund. Sir."

Oreius paused. "Then what would you suggest, Corporeal?"

"What?"

"What you say is true," Peter said. "So the General wants to know what it is you would do instead."

"Oh, uh," he swallowed slightly. Janus hadn't quite anticipated speaking to the High King himself for so long a period of time. "I'd send someone in. You know, to find out what it is that we're, um, up against. Your Majesty."

"The Colt speaks sense," said one of the other centaurs.

"I'm not a colt!" Janus protested.

"What was that?"

"I'm, uh, not a colt, sir?"

"Much better."

While this conversation was taking place, Peter looked to the Kestrel. "What is your name, my good Bird?"

"Tally, Majesty." she answered, finally having gotten her wind back.

"And how, Lady Tally, would you describe the pirates?"

"Well, they were dirty, and smelled something terrible – "

"No, no. I mean to say, were they dwarves? Satyrs?"

"Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, Your Majesty."

"Thank you kindly, dear Kestrel." Peter turned to find that Oreius was now watching him, arms folded and frowning something fierce. "Yes, General?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"You are not going to go in after King Edmund."

"General, do you mean to suggest we send young Janus here? I'm sure he would blend in wonderfully with all of the pirates." Peter said. For a moment, he was very aware how much he sounded like Edmund.

"You are much too close to this, Majesty," Oreius argued.

"Are there any here who are not?" retorted Peter. "Our home was attacked. Our family and friends are either dead or among the captured. The pirates are of my kind. I volunteer because it makes the most sense, Oreius, not out of rashness."

Oreius considered. They both knew, however, that while what Peter said was true, it was also more than slightly false. "I do not like it," Oreius conceded.

Peter nodded. "Nor do I, Oreius, nor do I."

Which, in turn, was how Peter found himself slipping quietly off of the griffin's back and into the courtyard. They'd ripped his clothes and tried to give him the appearance of one whom had spent many nights on the ocean. He'd rubbed dirt over his skin and made himself appear as Tally Kestrel described. Peter scratched his face. He did think the fake beard was rather much. And rather itchy…

Now what he had to do was find Edmund, contact the survivors of the attack, and manage a way to get them out. Of course, if he couldn't do that, Oreius would appear at sunset with a full force of centaurs, satyrs, and cheetahs to kick the gate in and reek hell on the pirates. But Peter was there to make sure that none of the captive Narnians would be hurt in the process. Namely, Edmund.

And finding his wayward brother, as it was, turned out to be much easier than Peter expected.

Peter took most of the morning making it seem as if he were one of them. It was easier than he thought; one pirate thought he was on another pirate's ship, and the other considered it to be the same. It wasn't until the late afternoon that he stumbled upon news of his brother.

"I ain't going _near_ there."

"Captain's orders,"

"But look what happened the last time! Somehow the bugger got a knife, even thoughs we took his boots and he's in those loose night things! And look what happened!"

"Aye, I see what happened, but if the Kingling doesn't eat, then he dies. And where does that put me and yous? In the Captain's bad graces, that's where!"

A Kingling that had grown men terrified. Peter grinned. That had to be Edmund.

"You do it then!"

"Have you lost your bleeding mind? I'm not doing it!"

"Uh, excuse me?" Peter said. "What's going on?"

"What's going on? The little bugger wants to know what's going on. Well, I'll _tell_ you what's going on!" he deflated slightly. "We gots to feed the captives, right? Well his _Majesty_ is damned near possessed he is! Attacked me when I tried to give him his brekkers."

"Surely he can't be all that bad," Peter said.

"You do it, then," the pirate said. His friend thrusted a piece of cheese into Peter's hands. The other held up his bandaged hand. "This be what happened the last time I went in there!"

"What?"

"He pulled a knife on me! Smallest knife I've ever seen, but it was enough to take me pointer finger!" he wiggled his remaining ones for effect.

Peter's eyebrows furrowed together. "But yo – we took his boots."

"Yep."

"And he's in nightclothes."

"Yep."

"…Then where was he keeping the knife?" Peter asked. To anyone else, his face was that of curiosity. To someone who knew him, it was a desperate attempt at not breaking down into hysterical laughter.

The pirate blinked once. He blinked again. He turned and walked away with his comrade, muttering about High Kings and how they just weren't worth it. That should've been Peter's first clue that something wasn't quite what it seemed. But as it was, he was too busy attempting to figure out how Edmund had managed to smuggle a weapon, hide it, and knife one of his captors.

If he'd had just paid a little more attention, it would've saved both he and his brother a world of trouble.

Shortly after, however, Peter realized that he still didn't know where to go. He walked through the halls – cheese still in hand – and listened to the talk of the pirates, wishing that he could just draw his sword and rip them all to little pieces. And then jump on them.

But he had to make sure Edmund was safe first.

During his wanderings, though, Peter began to gather up talk. It seemed that, apparently, the pirates were after the High King. He took it to mean that Edmund was to serve as bait.

"Oi! You there! Where you off to?" someone yelled.

Peter tried to look lost and confused. "I'm supposed to, uh…bring this to the, uh, the King?"

"Oh, you mean the little bugger down in the dungeons?" the pirate said. Peter noticed that 'little bugger' seemed to have become something of a nickname for Edmund. Any other situation and he may've laughed. "C'mon, I'll take you. It's so easy to get lost in here, ain't it? Don't worry. We'll figure it out soon enough."

No, you won't. Peter thought. You won't be here long enough to figure it out. But instead, he said, "Yes, probably."

"I like you," his 'guide' said. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Frank." Peter said, naming the first name that entered his mind.

"Like I said, I like you, Frank. I'm Taylor. We won't get lost after a while, like I said. And once the High King of Narnia hands the throne over to the captain, we'll all be noble folk!" Taylor said. Peter blinked in confusion, but didn't let the expression carry over to his face. He'd worry about the pirates' ultimate plan later. "Here we are…" Taylor trailed off. "Well, this is as far as I go. Best of luck."

Peter allowed himself a smile. What had Edmund been up to, to make a weathered pirate run quickly away? Peter let himself down into the dungeons. The dungeon in Cair Paravel had not been used up until this moment during their reign, a fact Peter was proud of. It was actually a very well lit place, the only thing that made one think of a dungeon was the chains on the walls. But it was a round, circular room, and there were no private cells.

As a result, Edmund was roaming free. And he reacted to Peter's presence with all the poise and dignity of someone thinking one of their captors was coming, and not in fact, their older brother.

"Take that!" Edmund yelled. A tin cup bounced off of a wall not an inch from Peter's head. He threw his hands up as a manacle followed it, this projectile hitting his arms. "And _that_!"

"Ed!" he hissed. "Edmund, stop, its me!"

Edmund paused, his arm in the air with another manacle in hand. "…Peter?"

The older boy held up the food. "If I give you this, will you stop throwing things?"

Edmund just gaped. Maybe it was the lighting, but he seemed more frustrated to see Peter than relieved. This wasn't quite what he'd had in mind about how the rescue would happen…

"Peter, you've got to go." Edmund said quietly. He kept shooting slightly panicked looks towards the door, as if just waiting for someone to come bursting in. "You've got to go right now."

"Why? Look, they want me, right?"

"Yes, but – "

"Something with handing over the throne to their Captain, yes?"

"Again, yes, if you'd just listen– "

"And you're being kept here as bait, correct?"

"Well, kind of, but – "

"So if we leave now, then there's no leverage against Narnia."

"Peter you need to just – "

"Stop complaining and let's..." Peter trailed off as the doorknob turned and opened. He was seized, arms roughly pulled behind his back, by two pirates while three others filed in. His sword was pulled from the scabbard and tossed across the room. He identified one of them who had to be the Captain, if the excessive amount of jewelry was any indication. Peter shot a look over at Edmund, who was behind the pirates' backs, and was frantically motioning for him not to talk.

"What's this, a rescue mission?" the Pirate Lord asked. He walked up to Peter so that their faces were inches apart. Peter gagged slightly; the man had the worst breath he'd ever smelled. And this was coming from one who had spent time with dwarves and Badgers. "Who are you?"

"He's definitely not one of us, Captain," one of the pirates holding Peter back said. Taylor wasn't one of them, so there was no one who could remotely vouch for him.

"Then who is he?" The Pirate Lord's gaze shifted to Edmund.

"I don't bloody well know," Edmund said moodily. "I thought he was one of yours."

"That is what you would say." the Lord responded. "Especially if you were hoping for him to rescue you."

"Well, I don't know who he is." Edmund persisted. "A person can't even be kept captive in peace anymore, can he? I mean there's people barging in here all of the – "

"Shut him up, will you?" the Pirate Lord said. The man to his right backhanded Edmund across the face.

"Well, _ouch_," he mumbled, spitting out some blood. The other pirates laughed, and the Lord began to leave.

"What do we do with this one?" called the same pirate who'd noticed Peter wasn't one of them.

"Just leave him here. His Majesty should enjoy the company."

Edmund frowned slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Shut up, Edmund!" Peter hissed. He was surprised that his brother wasn't beaten to a pulp all ready; he seemed to really be pushing it this time.

The Pirate Lord stopped, and turned his head over his shoulder at the brothers. "Edmund?" the Pirate Lord growled, turning towards the younger Pevensie. "As in the other King? And if you weren't royalty yourself, Master Unknown, you wouldn't just be calling him by name, then, would you?"

Peter straightened, even though he was terribly confused. Why would they have been keeping Edmund here if they hadn't known he was Edmund? Might as well put all of the cards on the table now. He was caught anyhow. And really, it was only a matter of time before Oreius came. "I am High King Peter the Magnificent," he said.

"Oh, Peter, _no_," Edmund moaned from just behind him.

The Pirate Lord frowned. One of his gooneys pointed at Edmund. "But he's the High King."

"No." Peter said. "No, he's not."

"Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking," Edmund had begun saying almost silently. "Please, just stop talking…"

"Is this true?" the Lord turned

Edmund stopped his mantra, and coughed awkwardly into his hand.

The Pirate Lord's mouth curved up into a smirk, and he swept from the room with his cohorts following him. "I'll be back. By then, sort out who's who. I have some planning to attend to." The door slammed shut.

"Nice going, Pete," Edmund said after a moment. "Excellent rescue. Now, if it's not too bold of me to ask, who's going to be rescuing you now that you've gone and made a mess of things?"

"Edmund, why did they think you were me?"

"Oh, I don't really – "

"_Edmund_."

"All right, all right," he sat on the floor and stared at his feet. "I might've told them that I was you."

Peter sputtered and gaped soundlessly for a moment. Edmund's gaze had shifted to a wall as he valiantly attempted to avoid anything resembling eye contact. "You…told…me…pirates…I…what the_ bloody hell for_?" he finally managed as he sat down next to his brother.

Edmund now stared at his feet again. "I had two trains of thought, actually. See they wanted you, correct? So, one, they stopped searching because they were loonies who didn't do any research on their targets before hand so they actually thought they'd managed to capture you. And, two, they only needed me for bait. As they thought I was you they didn't hit me as much as they would've…or is it hit you as much as they would've?"

"If you're trying to be clever, it isn't working." Peter growled. "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my entire life, Edmund! How could you possibly risk doing something so…so…so…"

"Stupid?" Edmund offered.

"Yes!"

"As I said before, I had two trains of – "

"Stop talking."

It was silent for a moment. Then, Edmund finally looked over at Peter. "So, about that rescue for your rescue – "

"Oreius has the orders that if I'm not out of here with you exactly one day after I left, then he's to attack Cair Paravel and retake it. Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride."

"Ah," Peter said, resisting the urge to clap him over the head. "Oreius will come,"

"Good, good." Edmund said. "…So, how long have you been here?"

"Why?"

"I just want to know how much longer I have to sit in this dungeon, is all." Edmund looked around. "Even if it is kind of pleasant down here with how the light is. Do we have anything remotely foreboding in this castle?"

The High King ignored his question. "If you hadn't claimed to be me, then maybe you wouldn't be in here at all!" said Peter.

"Look, my plan was working perfectly until you showed up and opened your big mouth." Edmund defended. He blinked suddenly. "Peter, are you…are you wearing a fake _beard_?"

"Shut up, Edmund," Peter said. He ripped the beard off and threw it as hard as he could into the center of the room. "Just…shut up."

"Just one more question," Edmund said. "When is Oreius going to come to kick arse and take names?"

Peter sighed. "Probably within the hour, because Oreius is a good General who always seems to know when we get into trouble. Now will you stop talking?"

The two boys lapsed into silence. Ironically, it was Peter who broke the silence with a question that had been niggling at the back of his head for a while now. "Look, Edmund, there's something that I really need to ask you,"

"I'd say to go ahead and ask, but you'd probably just tell me to shut up again."

"Edmund, please,"

"Fine."

"Where were you hiding the knife you got that one pirate with?"

Edmund grinned wickedly at him, as the door was kicked open. The Pirate Lord and three of his men entered. He smiled several of his teeth replaced by golden squares. "Well, we seem to have two High Kings for prisoners."

His men chuckled as if it was the most entertaining thing that they'd ever heard. Edmund rolled his eyes. Now Peter was attempting to signal him with the sign for 'shut up, you fool' but his brother paid him no heed. "Well, we seem to have four idiots for jailors who couldn't tell the difference between us," he said, smiling brightly.

Peter hung his head and sighed. The Pirate Lord glared. One of the three pirates guffawed slightly. His companion elbowed him into silence.

"You've been a lot of trouble to me and me men." the Pirate Lord said to Edmund. "Lying. Stealing keys. Cutting of Johan's finger. Flirting with my sister. Lying again."

"You flirted with his sister?" Peter hissed. "You're only twelve!"

"She had _food_ with her, Pete!" was Edmund's response. "I'd attacked the last one with food, and it had been hours. And it isn't like it worked, or anything."

"That's low, Ed, really – "

"Silence!" barked the Pirate Lord. He drew a sword and pointed it at Peter. "High King Peter, I demand that you give up your throne to me and crown me High King of Narnia."

"…Are you serious?" Peter asked incredulously. He looked over at Edmund. "Is he serious?"

"Unfortunately," Edmund responded. He squawked slightly in surprise as both he and Peter were hauled to their feet. Edmund was thrown against one side of the room while Peter was dragged to the other. He noticed, in a forlorn way, that they weren't even half as concerned about his 'well-being' as they were when he could give them Narnia.

"Your answer, High King Peter," demanded the Lord.

"I don't even know if I can do that." Peter said. He looked over at Edmund. "I can't do that, right?"

"Tell him," the Pirate Lord said.

Edmund sighed woefully. "Yes, you can. Its this Narnian law that goes way back that only the High King can pass the title on to a new High King." He scowled. "I don't know how these moronic idiots found out about it, but – "

The Pirate Lord nodded once, and one of the pirates keeping Edmund on his side of the room danced the point of dagger near his face. "One more word out of you, and Christoph will cut your sharp little tongue out."

Wisely, Edmund closed his mouth.

"Your answer!"

"No." Peter said. "Did you honestly think I would? You attacked my home and you held my brother and I against our will. What did you think would happen?"

"I had hoped to do this the easiest way," the Pirate Lord said. He attempted to make his words sound regretful, but his face was that of a hunter about to make the kill. "However, as it is…"

"You can hit me all that you want." Peter said. "It won't change anything."

"I know that. You royal folk are all the same. Here, there, anywhere. So, no, High King Peter. We're not going to hit you." he smirked, and pointed over his shoulder at where Edmund was against the wall. One of the pirates slammed a knee into his stomach. The younger King, whose attention had been captured by the knife, was taken by surprise and doubled over with an 'oof' as the air went out of him. "We're going to hit him."

* * *

It probably would've done Peter's heart good to know that he'd been right about Oreius' sixth sense for trouble. However, what he didn't know was that it had a name. Oreius had detailed a Robin named Klest with tailing the Kings whenever they left the Castle. If either of them ran into trouble, the centaur knew in minutes.

As it was, Klest had just informed him that Peter had gone into the dungeons and not come out, and then the pirates had entered, exited, and come back into that same area. Even the greenest of Privates could figure out what that meant. Which is how Oreius found himself storming his own sovereigns' castle.

His little Kings just seemed to have penchant for trouble.

* * *

The crack split the room followed by Edmund's strangled cry. Peter began, again, pulling against his captors' hold. "Leave him alone!" he yelled. The Pirate Lord turned his sights from the youngest king – who was currently on the ground curled in on himself, save for one leg that was bent in a very unnatural way – to the eldest.

"Then give me your throne."

Peter sent a near panicked look at Edmund, taking inventory of his injuries. Besides the obviously broken leg, one of his brother's eyes were swollen shut along with a assembly of other bruises on his face, and Peter was positive he had several broken ribs. Edmund gave his head the smallest shake before resting it on the stone floor again and closing his uninjured eye.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Just bloody well pick one," Edmund muttered. He groaned as one of the pirates kicked him roughly in the side.

"Edmund," Peter said in a half warning, half pleading tone.

"I tire of this," the Pirate Lord snapped. In half a stride he was towering over Edmund. He picked up Peter's discarded sword, and pointed it down at Edmund's midriff. "Do what I say, or the Kingling dies!"

Peter looked down at Edmund – who had turned quite pale at this point – and back to the Pirate Lord. "I – "

The door was kicked in, and the lights of the setting sun spilt down the steps. "Get away from my Kings," snarled Oreius sharply. The Pirate Lord took a shocked step backwards. But so intent was he on the centaur he completely missed the Mice that spilt down the stairs between the General's legs.

It was a fatal mistake, one that the Mice were quick to educate him on.

Oreius thundered down the stairs. Peter could hear the sounds of battle above them, but he took the time to get to Edmund's side and reclaim his sword from the fallen Pirate Lord. Within minutes, all were gone from the odd dungeon save for Oreius and his kings.

A moment after that, and Philip came clopping quickly down the stairs. "Oreius, you're needed," the Horse said. "There's more of the pirates than we expected."

"Philip, get Edmund out of here," Peter commanded.

"What about you?"

"I'm not hurt," he retorted. He paused at the door, Oreius just behind him. "And Philip?"

"I'll take care of him, King Peter," Philip said with a slight roll of his eyes. "Go stab some pirate scum for me,"

Peter gave him a tense smile, sent a worried glance at Edmund, and was out the door. Then the Horse nosed Edmund's chest lightly. "Wake up, your Majesty, time to go."

Edmund batted his head away weakly. "'M too tired, five more minutes," he muttered.

"No, no," Philip said. He nosed him, more persistent this time, and when he was sure that Edmund had woken, he lay beside him. The twelve year old's eyes were slightly unfocused. "Just grab my mane, and up we'll go," Philip instructed while keeping his voice calm and quiet.

With some help from the single Mouse – Kepicheek – that had stayed behind to protect his liege's escape, they got the King up and soon, they were flying out the door towards the stables. He'd send Kepicheek back to make sure it was safe before bringing Edmund back to the castle.

* * *

"Oh, Susan," Lucy said. "I didn't think I would miss Cair Paravel so much!"

"I know," said Susan, joining her sister where she leaned excitedly over the rail, eyes peering for a glimpse of their beloved home. "I think, though, that I'm missing the people there most of all."

"Yes, of course," amended Lucy. "I can't wait to see Edmund and Peter! Do you think that they'll be surprised? About us returning early, I mean."

"Knowing them, Peter will have a fit of happy shock and Edmund will attempt to remain aloof and act as if he didn't miss us," Susan said. "And then they'll both get over themselves and be perfectly delighted."

Lucy giggled. Susan joined her, but soon their laughter gave way to gasps as they were joined by the crew of their small vessel. "Are…those aren't Narnian ships, are they?"

"No colors are being flown," said the First Mate, an agile fellow of merry temperament, as he lowered his telescope. "Pirates."

"Ho! Your Majesties!" called a voice. Both sisters looked down and saw several of the mer-folk keeping easy pace with the ship.

"Please, good cousins," Lucy said, her voice quivering. "What's happened?"

The fish people made quick work accounting the days and night's events. When they were done, the Captain eyed them critically. "It is safe, then, for their Majesties to press onward?"

"Oh yes," assured a mermaid in her brittle, high, above-the-water voice. "The Cair has been retaken, and the pirates captured."

When they made dock, they were greeted with tired, dirty, yet very happy faces. Immediately, they demanded to know the whereabouts of their brothers. "Oh, they're at the stables," remarked Janus the centaur.

"Whatever for?" Susan asked.

"Philip won't allow them to leave," answered the centaur, a quiver of laughter in his voice.

"Janus!" bellowed Oreius. "Philip won't allow them to leave, _what_?"

"Oh, sorry. I mean, sorry, sir." Janus cringed. "Philip won't allow them to leave, _your Majesties._"

"Better!"

And so it was that the Queens found themselves, not twenty minutes off of their boat, being escorted down to the stables. But when they were more than a hundred feet from said buildings, they could all ready hear Peter's voice echoing from them. "You idiot! What the…I don't even know what to say to you!"

Then, as they drew closer, Edmund's voice, though it was much quieter and slightly thicker than Peter's. "Thank you?"

"For what! I don't need to thank you! You just went and…and complicated things, that's all!" They pushed open the door to find Peter pacing, Edmund sitting and watching, Philip standing slightly over Edmund, and Prock the faun – who thought he was part Horse, and thus lived in the stables – peeking out from inside a stall warily. "And now look at you, all – "

"Edmund!" Susan gasped. All four of the stables' current inhabitants whirled their heads to stare at them. Lucy was all ready next to Edmund and uncorking her cordial.

"Open your mouth." she instructed.

He blinked at her, and then looked up at Peter. "I do think I've hit my head harder than I may've originally thought…" he said. Lucy lightly slapped his arm. She repeated her original demand, and Edmund frowned at her. "It's not all that serious. And, don't you think you should conserve that for when it – " he sputtered off as Lucy forced a drop in.

"What happened?" Susan demanded.

And out came the _other _side of the story – the one the mer-folk hadn't known about to tell them. "…And then, Oreius kicked the door in and the Mice took care of the pirates, and Philip brought Edmund here and I followed once the pirates were taken care of." Peter said.

Lucy gaped. "Edmund," she said. "That was very brave of you."

"See?" Edmund looked over at Peter with an arched eyebrow and jabbed a thumb in Lucy's direction. "She doesn't think I was stupid. She thinks I was brave."

"_She_ is ten."

"Is the cordial done working?" Susan asked calmly. Edmund bent his leg experimentally.

"I think so."

"Good." Susan pulled her arm back and slapped Edmund full across the face. "What were you thinking, you bleeding _idiot_," Susan seethed. Edmund gaped at her, while Lucy leaned over towards Peter, muttering that she didn't think she'd ever heard Susan swear before. "Telling them that you were the High King? Of all the stupid things you've ever…I mean, really, Edmund! How did you expect things to turn out? Well, answer me!"

Peter settled down, and groaned slightly when he heard the beginning of Edmund's explanation.

"Well, I had two trains of thought, actually…"


End file.
